Backpacking at 294 Pounds

In 2013, my husband, his friend, and I set out to hike through the same mountain range as we had hiked in 2010.  This time though, we were taking a different path and planned a trip that would cover 30 miles of terrain in six days.  The idea of hiking this area again was unbearable.  Before when we had hiked, we had spent the months before preparing by working out at the gym - something we didn't do this time.  Not to mention, adding 20 pounds to my weight didn't encourage me any either.  Still, after many conversations and debates, I said I would go.  I did this only for my husband because I knew he wanted to go again and I also knew he wouldn't go without me (we're a team that way - a package deal if you will).  This time, we would be travelling with one of my husbands best friends from high school -- an avid hiker.  Last time, I was worried about failing my hubby, but this time, I was worried about failing them both.  

Determined not to die, I hugged my dad at the trail head and thanked him for the ride, before strapping into our packs and taking one last photo.  I tried to think of an excuse to get me back into that pick-up, but nothing was coming to mind and I knew my pack contained communal gear.  With hesitation and fear, I cinched down my straps and began the walk to the trail.  Before long, we were out of site and into the woods.... This was happening again.  

When we hit the fork, we took the left this time, which in someways relieved me a bit.  It was a new trail, a new path, and gave me hope that I may be successful after all.  We hiked for hours, this time slower than the last.  With each step, I knew I was holding my other party members back.  I wanted so desperately to be able to keep a good pace for them, but knew that I couldn't do it.  In the distance, our final resting place could be seen for miles and each hour that passed seemed to push the mountains further away.  The new trail was gradual and provided beautiful scenery.  I could imagine the Nez Perce camping in the glacier-carved valley next to the calm creek that flowed through it.  Their tipi's spread out, children laughing and playing, and horses grazing.  I imagine it would be a wonderful place to live for the summer, high above the world and so peaceful.  This daydream kept me going for quite awhile.

Within a mile or so (I was too tired to know for sure) from our first stop, I became overwhelmingly exhausted.  I was ready to quit, but my husbands friend charged ahead, dropped off his pack and returned to pack mine the rest of the way.  This was my first defeat.  I had failed both my husband and his friend and embarrassed myself.... I literally couldn't even pull my own weight.

By the time we made it to the first stop, I was beating myself up pretty bad over my inability to make it on my own to the lake.  Although the guys were awesome, I knew that I had slowed them down by several hours and it was only day one.  We made camp, enjoyed the stars while laying out on the rocks, ate some food, drank a little whiskey, and settled in for the night.  

The next morning, we packed up camp and headed down the trail, through the same rocky hillsides we had passed through before, but this time, we pushed on past the beautiful lake where we had camped before and made our way to another valley where we made camp.  Then, we hiked to the bottom of a mountain cased with granite boulders.  This is where I would leave these two as they ventured up this insane slope to a lake at the top.  Still exhausted from the hike the day before and the one that morning, I slowly found my way back to where we made camp.  Here, I rested in my hammock until the boys returned bearing fish.  I spent the next half hour or so weaving a small basket to cook the fish on.  The warmth of the fire, the taste of fresh fish, and the conversation was enough to make me forget about my anguish from the day before.   

The following day, we headed over the mountain and rested at a lake we had never seen before.  It's always hard for me to describe how incredibly beautiful these places are, but every time you see something new up there, your jaw drops and you realize how small you are in this big world.  It stops time and allows you to enjoy the beauty of nature.  This lake was no different.  We made camp on the other side, fished for hours using grasshoppers we caught along the shore, and slept soundly under the starlit sky.  

On day four, we made our way around the lake and crossed a creek before heading down the rocky trail.  Our packs were slightly lighter and our lungs were adjusting to the altitude.  We followed the gravel path for quite some time before I stepped on rock and twisted my ankle.  My hiking poles kept me from falling all the way to the ground and helped me make it the remainder of the way down the path.  When we reached the bottom (and more lakes), we sat, took our boots off, and did a little bandaging.  We also did a lot of contemplating.  Here is where the trail split.  To the right, the path we planned on taking.  To the left, the shorter path....  For the first time since day one, I knew I was holding everyone back and I didn't want to be the reason the trip was cut short.  I wanted so desperately to finish the 30 mile trek that we had planned, but the boys chose the shorter path.  I knew it was because of me (they were both fine), but they would never say that was chose the shorter route.  

Sadly, we marched to the left and headed down the mountain.  On the trail, I silently took blame for ruining the trip that was planned and I knew I let everyone down.  To make matters worse, the clouds rolled in and rain fell.  The proximity of thunder and lightning put a sense of urgency in my step and I booked it as fast as my legs could go.  We made it to the meadow where we were able to set up camp just before the down pour.  Eventually the clouds parted and we were able to enjoy our last night in the mountains; although, the guilt in my heart was heavy.

On our final day, we packed up camp one last time and headed down the same path we had exited on three years before.  This time though, it didn't feel as triumphant.  Instead, I anguished in pain as I reflected on my failures.  I was certain this would be the last time I made this trip.  I was just too big to do this kind of thing.  Choosing the path to the left was almost as bad as being rescued; I just wanted it all to be over.  As we made our way down the trail, past the river, and saw the lake signifying we were near the end, I couldn't help, but be a little proud of what I had accomplished.  Although there were mishaps, there were also plenty of reasons to be pleased with what I was able to do at 294 pounds.  

Emotionally, this trip was quite different than my first trip through these mountains.  I had little faith
in my abilities and yet, I also knew that there weren't a lot of 300 pound people even attempting this feat.  I wanted to be strong for the two men that were travelling with me, but I wasn't nearly as strong as I had hoped.  It hurt so much to see myself as a failure in front of these two and taking the short-cut didn't help, but I doubt they ever saw me as a failure.  It's funny how differently we perceive ourselves from the way others see us.  Three years later, I can look back and see how they might have seen my journey as an inspiration, not a failure.